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Bon Vivant

Bourbon Street Masquerade

By David LaLonePublished 7 years ago 1 min read
Bourbon Street

The inebriated masses

Livers swell

Lovers bell

The mask is never unveiled

The masquerade ball, is never a ball

Debauchery hall

Darkness falls

They call this a bar crawl

Drinking without direction, only a plan

To head to the next pub

Man I could use some grub

Bourbon street

Where is your meat?

Not your red district treats

But your voluptuous swine

To go with this wine

Some abomination

To go with this unholy libation

I’m surrounded by hedonists

Calling me Bon Vivant

As I am dragged away and enticed

Crying “Bon appetit!”

performance poetrysurreal poetry

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